


Every Night's Another Story

by lazarus_girl



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarus_girl/pseuds/lazarus_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Determined for their friendship not to change in light of Amy’s confession, Karma enlists Shane to help her move on and date a girl for real. Once they make Amy over and that date becomes real too, things get a lot more complicated for everyone involved.</p><p>
  <i>“Amy deserves to be happy.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 10:47 pm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exist2believe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exist2believe/gifts).



> Set post S1. Everything up to Amy’s confession happened. It’s up to you if you want to acknowledge what happened after it, but this story doesn’t. Prompted back during the mists of 1x04 by my girl [exist2believe](http://exist2believe.tumblr.com) and expanded upon when I realised how much I wanted to explore Karma’s perspective. I hope it was worth the wait! The majority of this was written before S2A even aired but definitely captures the mood of what eventually happened on screen. Title from The Early November’s song of the same name. Thank you, to my ever faithful beta [itcameuponamidnightqueer](http://itcameuponamidnightqueer.tumblr.com) for her beta skills and cheerleading.

_“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”_  
– Jane Austen, _Emma_.

***

_Shane Harvey, 10:47 pm: Is she back yet?_

Shane’s been sending her messages like that for the past three hours. Instead of writing her paper about Classical Civilisations for Mr Miller, she’s been watching the clock and obsessively checking her phone. It’s all she’s done since she and Shane stood together on the sidewalk like proud parents as they watched Amy’s cab disappear out of view, headed for a date she was reluctant to go on. In the abstract, weeks ago, teaming up with him and making Amy over so she could go on a _real_ date with a _real_ lesbian was a good idea. She broke Amy’s heart. Shattered it, more precisely, so it’s only fair that she should try to help her put it back together again. Amy deserves to be happy.

Except, in reality, she didn’t look all that happy, and now Karma just feels guilty.

Her intentions were good. She’s desperate to keep Amy in her life and to not throw away a decade of friendship, but she’s also terrified that eventually, they’ll just drift apart anyway. It feels possible now, and it never really did before. She can’t imagine her life without Amy in it, but it’s getting harder and harder to keep her there. Everything she does, whether she means to or not, seems to hurt her somehow. After this is all over, she owes Amy a girls weekend, just them, their body weight in ice cream and a Netflix marathon she has complete control over. Like it used to be. Before high school. Before Liam Booker, before … everything went wrong. Right now, sitting in her pj’s watching documentaries with Amy sounds pretty perfect. She wishes she’d given Amy an out; let her get a word in instead of ignoring her.

She can see it now she’s got nothing but time to stop, reflect, and panic. Things snowballed, and they both got overexcited, forcing Amy into things she wouldn’t normally say yes to. She thought it would make things less awkward if Shane was there as a buffer, because he helped her out with online dating the first time around. She can’t pretend that Amy keeping things from her doesn’t hurt, even if she understands why. Amy’s still painfully uncomfortable talking about other girls and Karma doesn’t want her to be. As her mom always says, repression is unhealthy. All she’s tried to do is turn things into positives and make Amy feel good – or at the very least OK – about what she feels.

_Karma Ashcroft, 10:49 pm: No. That’s a good thing though, isn’t it?_

_Shane Harvey, 10:50 pm: Potentially? :P_

She makes a face, annoyed because Shane isn’t taking this seriously at all.

_Shane Harvey, 10:51 pm: The point of this was to get her laid, Karma._

She swallows hard, looking away from her laptop screen, more disturbed than ever by the fact her phone screen is dark. Essentially, they’ve pimped Amy out in the name of fun. For all intents and purposes, she was their giant living Barbie doll to experiment on. She’s been a terrible friend, but she’s used to that where Amy’s concerned. Amy’s probably used to it too.

If anything happens to her, she’ll never forgive herself. She has Bruce on speed dial in case they need to go and rescue Amy in case she ends up getting Catfished by this girl or … worse. The thought of it makes her feel _ill_ , not least because it’d be her fault. Again. Amy would never have any of these feelings if she hadn’t suggested they fake being lesbians.

_Shane Harvey, 10:53 pm: That was the point wasn’t it? Or is it only OK when Amy’s lusting after you?_

She huffs out a breath, practically able to hear the smugness in his voice. She’s not even going to dignify it with a response because he doesn’t deserve it. She could slam her laptop closed and let that be the end of it, but they need each other right now. Without him to talk to, she’ll be an even bigger mess. She’d feel better if she could just text Amy. She just wants to check everything’s OK. No, she _needs_ to text Amy. Screw her low battery and Shane’s stupid rules about no texting because it’ll “interrupt the flow” of the date. He can be such a _dick_.

_Karma Ashcroft, 10:56 pm: Fuck you._

_Shane Harvey, 10:57 pm: Aww, did I hurt your feelings?! Sorry not sorry. Amy might’ve forgiven you, but I haven’t. You led her on._

She feels like screaming at him that she can’t possibly have led her on, because Amy didn’t _tell_ her how she’d been feeling until the wedding. She had no idea. No matter how many times she says it, he never believes that she didn’t mean to hurt her. The way he sees it, she manipulated Amy and Liam so she could get what, or rather who she wanted. Who _wouldn’t_ want Liam Booker? He’s the hottest boy at Hester. OK, so the reality of dating him isn’t quite what she expected. Mostly because they’re so different, but he’s yet to acknowledge that she’s his girlfriend. She does everything a good girlfriend should – everything that _Cosmo_ and the internet tells her, but she’s never quite enough. There are parts of Liam’s life she’s allowed to be involved in, and parts she’s not. She knows that, she’s always known that, but it doesn’t make it any easier, and it doesn’t stop her trying to change it either. She’s never even seen the inside of his bedroom, much less met his parents. That doesn’t matter to most people though. It doesn’t matter to anyone at school. He’s still the hottest boy at Hester, and not so long ago, that would’ve been enough, but it’s not anymore. Not since Amy’s confession, and the pain on her face when she said the word “love” out loud: like she was dragging something from the very depths of herself and every second of the journey hurt. That sure wasn’t like you see in the movies and it’s more than Liam’s ever given her.

Somehow, Shane knows that too. He has this horrible habit of getting right under her skin.

They aren’t really friends. They have a mutual accord for Amy’s sake, but that’s it. Very easily, he knows how to cut her to the quick. With Amy around, he’s kinder and more tolerant. Without her, Karma feels like she has no defence. He’s always trying to make her trip up somehow. There’s always an agenda. She regrets a lot of things about this school year so far, but hurting Amy and Liam are really high on the list.

He refuses to acknowledge that.

_Karma Ashcroft, 11:01 pm: You think you know about Amy and I, but you don’t. I DO care about her. She could be lying dead in the gutter and we’re arguing._

OK, so that’s a _little_ dramatic. Amy can handle herself, she’s a big girl, but still, this whole exercise got a lot more dangerous once Shane suggested they up their game and go after different, older girls.

_Shane Harvey, 11:03 pm: If she’s not back by 11:30 we’ll call the cops like we said. Stop stressing out. Let her have some fun._

Fun. He makes it sound so simple. She had to bargain with Amy to even get her to entertain going back on Syzzr again. It was fun when she and Shane were sat on Amy’s bed, cycling through girl after girl, debating their merits, making shortlists for Amy to pick from. Shane seemed surprised by how good she was, how tuned to what Amy might like, even though she rarely gave them anything to work with. Shane vetoed anyone he thought too obviously pretty and/or fake. She vetoed anyone who looked like a potential serial killer. Amy vetoed anyone who liked anything popular. The field narrowed quickly. Amy’s an old soul, unapologetically smart and she sucks at smalltalk, so it felt natural to go for girls in college in the hope she might have something more in common with them.

In the end, none of them never really fit until Caterina ‘Cat’ Marchesi. Law student by day, bartender by night, effortlessly cool. The moment Amy saw her picture, Karma and Shane high-fived in victory. Amy says she doesn’t have a type, but she does. It’s always brunettes with dark eyes. They have to be smart and hold their own in conversation. They have to make her laugh. They have to be ambitious, passionate, liberal, and edgy, but not so edgy they’d send Farrah into an early grave. There has to be some sort of spark to keep Amy interested, because she gets bored easily. A pretty face isn’t enough. She’s dismissed countless girls on that basis alone, and even more because they just weren’t good enough for Amy to start with. After a while, Shane stopped commenting on how stubborn she was being and finding it endlessly amusing. The longer it’s gone on, the more knowing Shane’s looks have become.

Publicly, she plays along, happy for Amy, because it’s nice to see her like that, even if she spends most of the time second-guessing herself, which is kind of adorable. Privately, it’s a different story. Something about Cat makes her insanely jealous, and she doesn’t know why. Why would she possibly be jealous? And that’s the confusing part about all this. She told Amy she didn’t love her, and that’s not really true. It hasn’t been true for a long time. It hasn’t been true since Cat became more than just words on a screen and turned into a real person who she relied upon to keep her something like sane.

She didn’t mean to take over and pretend to be Amy whenever Cat was online, but Amy practically _begged_ her, and what she doesn’t know about romance – learned from her extensive collection of rom-coms and novels – isn’t worth knowing. Now, all she can think is Amy’s probably terrified, floundering, completely out of her element, and it’s all her fault. She’s been coached to within an inch of her life, but it won’t be enough. It won’t be enough, because somewhere along the line, Karma stopped speaking for Amy and started talking about herself well into the night instead.

***

_Karma Ashcroft, 04:01 am: I just get so confused sometimes, because she means the world to me, you know? I hate to think I made her feel this bad._

_Caterina Marchesi, 04:06 am: Oh honey, just talk to her. Yeah, it’ll be hard, but it’s got to be better than this, right? So you told her one thing and now it’s different? Who cares?_

_Karma Ashcroft, 04:14 am: I do. I hurt her. I hurt Liam. I lied. I lied to everyone and then I broke her heart._

_Caterina Marchesi, 04:17 am: Do you want to chase after some piece of man candy who’ll like you for two seconds or have something real? Don’t throw it away coz you’re scared. Jesus, that’s such a waste._

_Karma Ashcroft, 04:25 am: That’s why I’m scared._

_Caterina Marchesi, 04:27 am: Because it would be real?_

_Karma Ashcroft, 04:36 am: Yes. No one loves me like Amy does._

_Caterina Marchesi, 04:37 am: What about you? You never say how you feel._

_Karma Ashcroft, 04:38 am: Because I don’t know._

_Caterina Marchesi, 04:38 am: And that’s OK._

_Caterina Marchesi, 04:38 am: But you have to tell her how you’re feeling. She’s still your best friend. Don’t you think she’ll be hurt you didn’t say anything?_

_Karma Ashcroft, 04:38 am: She’ll be angry. She’ll be hurt whatever I do. There have been a thousand times I could’ve said something and I didn’t. She’ll never believe me and she’ll never trust me again. I’ll only disappoint her. I always do._

_Caterina Marchesi, 04:41 am: And you’ll never know how she’ll feel or what you’ll do if you don’t try._

***

Once things progressed to Amy being confident enough to chat on her own, and asking Cat on an offline, very real date with Shane’s encouragement, she felt even worse. Now they’d aged Amy up, they had to dress her up to match. It escalated quickly, with Shane recruiting Oliver to make Amy a scarily authentic fake ID. They had to make Amy Raudenfeld disappear, and leave nineteen-year-old Angela Chase behind.

(Oliver made her an ID too. Shane said the first name that came into his head: Jordan Catalano)

And she wasn’t ready to see that at all.

Nothing Amy owned was right, she’d never pass for twenty-one in the clothes she wore to school every day, and they were at a loss, contemplating a trip to the mall, until Shane finished rifling through her wardrobe. With triumphant “perfect” and ridiculous grin, he held up a black bodycon dress she’d bought for a real date with Liam to try and be as sophisticated as his sister, Robin. She had to bribe Amy with M&M’s to get her to even take it off the hanger, but eventually, she agreed. That’s when things got weird. Anytime she tried to help too, Shane would wave her away mumbling things about “ruining the effect,” when he was fine about them tag teaming before to fix her hair and make-up. Shane was the one who leapt to help Amy with the stuck zipper when she got panicked. He was the one who reassured her and told her that her body was “amazing” and her boobs were “perfect” even if he didn’t want to “do anything with them.”

Karma knows all too well that Shane wasn’t just being kind to her. The only person who doesn’t know Amy’s hot as all hell is Amy.

Except, she wasn’t quite ready for how the new-improved Amy – wearing her dress and her make-up – would make her feel: desire. Lust. Want.Yes. She wanted her. Badly. Like she’s never wanted anyone, not even Liam. She saw that different Amy once, fleetingly, months ago, and it stirred things in her she hasn’t been able to let go of, no matter how hard she’s tried to.

Tonight, they didn’t so much stir, as surge, and this time, she had a witness. Shane saw every second of her reaction, and she’s surprised he hasn’t brought it up. She can still see her, standing awkwardly in the doorway in bare feet, not able to look either of them in the eye when she quietly asked, “Is this OK?” He spoke for them both, sitting bolt upright exclaiming, “Holy shit, you’re eighty percent leg, how the eff did that happen?” When she glared at him – the only thing she could do – he protested he was “gay, not blind.” Usually, she would’ve had some witty retort, but she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think about anything beyond the fact that dress was made for Amy. It clung to every inch of her, perfectly. Quite suddenly, without her really noticing, Amy wasn’t just a girl she could call pretty, Amy was sexy and that’s not something she’d ever considered before, about anyone at all.

Boys are cute, boys are hot. Girls are beautiful, girls are pretty, but no one’s ever been sexy to her before. Ever.

The moment Amy’s gaze fell upon her, looking for assurance, she managed to pull herself together, and for once, be in total agreement with Shane, rushing up and heaping praise as she spun her around for Shane’s final assessment. They high-fived, they squealed, they clapped, and for a moment, nothing mattered but Amy. Everything she said had the word ‘Cat’ attached. Cat was the one who would think she was gorgeous. Cat was the one who'd give her hickeys they’d have to cover up tomorrow. Cat was the one who was making Amy blush furiously.

Cat Marchesi let her get away with more than she ever thought she could. The smile on Amy’s face was worth the risk.

_***_

_Karma Ashcroft, 11:17 pm: We shouldn’t have pushed her into this, Shane. She wasn’t ready._

Her fingers hover over the keys, waiting for Shane’s reply, desperate to offload and tell someone, anyone, the truth, but she just can’t. He’ll never believe her, not now. Neither will Amy.

_Shane Harvey, 11:19 pm: It’s a little late for regrets now, sweetie. What’s done is done._

Yes. It is.

She never should’ve told Cat anything about herself or how these feelings – whatever they are – for Amy are slowly driving her insane. She should’ve been honest with Amy and only Amy from the start. The start, if she’s being honest, was in that cheap motel room during their ridiculous not quite threesome. For a moment, Liam Booker ceased to exist. That kiss with Amy – so much more than they’d ever dared fake – was the jumpstart to her heart. Ever since, it’s pounded out a new rhythm that she can’t reset, no matter how she fights it or tries to drown it out. Ever since, she’s wondered what would’ve happened if she was brave enough to stay in that room. It’s one of many things that keeps her awake at night.

_Shane Harvey, 11:21 pm: Karma, can I ask a question?_

As soon as she reads the screen, her stomach drops. He’s going to ask, he’s going to ask something she’ll never be able to answer. Not now. Not ever.

_Karma Ashcroft, 11:22 pm: What?_

The longer she has to wait for Shane’s reply, the harder it is to keep breathing. Her heart pounds loudly in her chest and her mouth is dry, just like the first time she talked to Cat as Karma instead of Amy. In her panic, she can feel a familiar wave of nausea come over her, but still, she can’t seem to move tiny distance to shut her laptop.

_Shane Harvey, 11:25 pm: Today, when you saw Amy in the dress, you felt something didn’t you? I know you guys were faking before, but Karma, nothing about the way you looked at her was fake._

Before she knows it, she’s typing again and it’s not what she wants to say at all.

_Karma Ashcroft, 11:26 pm: Duh, Amy’s hot. Even you said it._

_Shane Harvey, 11:27 pm: Bullshit. You’re in love with her, aren’t you? Now you realise it? Now you want her because you can’t really have her?_

It’s just words on a screen, but they hurt, and she’s so fucking angry at Shane for figuring it out and pulling her apart. She’s angry at Cat, and she’s angry at Amy for making her feel like this, but mostly, she’s angry herself for being so completely oblivious to everything including her own heart. Before she can think of replying, of letting out the breath she’s suddenly holding, Shane’s typing again.

_Shane Harvey, 11:28 pm: God, she fucking worships you. It’s taken her forever to even try and date other girls! What about Liam? Why do you keep fucking them around? They don’t deserve this._

“I know!” she says out loud, too loudly, to no one.

Tears that have been threatening to fall all evening since she started thinking about Cat and Amy together finally do. Swatting them away, angry and frustrated, she finally admits defeat, if Shane wants the truth. He’ll get it.

_Karma Ashcroft, 11:29 pm: Yes. I love her. I’m IN love with her. Happy now?_

At the exact moment she presses enter, her phone lights up, juddering on the desk as her text tone plays. It’s Amy. The guard she just let drop swiftly goes back up. She can’t go to pieces right now. All she wants to do is go into the bathroom, run the shower and cry where no one can hear her, but she can’t because she has to be there for Amy like Amy’s been there for her thousands of times before.

_Karm, please be awake. Come let me in, I need to talk to you._

The last thing she sees before she slams her laptop closed is Shane’s reply. Gone is the snarky, bitchy Shane, and in his place is the nice, sweet Shane who counselled Amy and held her on the nights she cried herself to sleep.

_Shane Harvey, 11:31 pm: Holy shit! You’re being serious, aren’t you? Don’t freak out, it’s OK. It’s gonna be OK, I promise._

Somehow, his kindness makes everything worse. She ignores it, and the phone call from him that follows, texting Amy back instead.

_Totally awake and happy I don’t have to call the cops! Be right there xx_

She rushes across the room, catching herself looking her reflection in the mirror, shaking her hair out of its ponytail and smoothing it down. This is Amy. What’s she doing? Amy doesn’t even care. Whether she’s in her pj’s with messy hair, an ancient t-shirt without a scrap of makeup or a ridiculously expensive prom dress and a hairstyle that’s religiously copied from a magazine.

Amy loves her no matter what, and that’s the problem.

***

 **Footnote** : In my head, Cat looks a lot like [this](https://36.media.tumblr.com/125a2e9fe3eb1774e7a1d50ae4bac6d6/tumblr_nitba981IM1txkikoo1_1280.jpg) lovely lady, Sofia Black-D’Elia. Yes, my girl and I had her in mind long before Yvette Monreal was cast as Reagan. We’re clearly psychic.


	2. 11:36 pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"She’s looked at Amy every day for years, but she’s never really seen her before."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For story notes see [Chapter One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3239606/chapters/7057310).

The Amy standing in front of her when she opens the door doesn’t look much like the Amy that left hours ago. Hugging herself against the cooler night air, the shoes she borrowed are swinging from her right hand, and the curls Karma and Shane set her hair in have started to drop out. Her makeup isn’t as perfect when they all stood in front of her bedroom mirror admiring their handiwork. Her lipstick has long since been kissed off, and all that’s left of the mascara and eyeliner Karma meticulously applied, inches away from Amy’s face, swatting at her every time she flinched, are inky tracks.

Amy’s been crying. She doesn’t even want to think about why those tears fell. 

“What happened?” she manages at last, pulling Amy inside and shutting the door. 

“I’m fine … I’m OK,” Amy assures, and Karma lets out a shaky sigh of relief. “It’s a long story,” she continues, sadly. “Let’s just say things didn’t exactly go to plan.”

“Oh,” she flounders for a second, panicked, feeling her heart pick up speed. 

Does Amy know? What does she know? Did Cat tell her everything? That would be worth crying over. 

They can never do anything on the right timeline. 

“I look a total mess,” Amy exclaims, catching sight of herself in the hallway mirror. “You and Shane worked so hard.”

“Hardly,” she says gently, stepping forward to brush away the remnants of Amy’s tears. “Here, let me fix you.”

Amy inhales sharply at the contact, backing away from it. Things they used to take for granted, like touching and hugging and holding hands are too much for her now. They weigh too heavily. They’re too much for Karma now too. 

“I’m sorry,” she replies, earnestly, taking Amy’s free hand, “I shouldn’t have made you go, you didn’t even want to.”

“It’s OK,” Amy shrugs, trying her best to smile. 

“No, no it’s really not,” she insists, gripping Amy’s hand tightly. Too tightly. She glances down, seeming to notice. 

“It’s over now,” Amy says, with a quiet air of finality, and then, “I think I broke one of your heels.”

Even though Karma hears those words, that’s not what they sound like at all. They’re standing much closer together than they were before. There’s this weird _tension_ and she doesn’t know why. Her words to Shane feel like they’re hanging over their heads, lit neon. 

Before she can say anything – before another not-quite-lie can come out of her mouth – the hallway light comes on, and there’s her mom, in her pyjamas standing in the kitchen doorway, steaming mug of green tea in hand. 

“You’re back early Amy,” she comments with a wry smile, sipping on her tea. 

Karma glares, embarrassed enough for everyone. “Mom!”

It’s Amy that breaks the contact, leaving Karma flailing at air. 

She’s dimly aware of Amy’s phone ringing in the clutch bag she made her take. It has to be Shane. She swallows hard, wondering how many messages he’s left and what they say. 

Her mom has only just gotten over the fact that she and Amy aren’t even dating anymore, but she’s still going to PFLAG and seems to have developed an even greater interest in Amy’s love life than before. Her parents always say that Amy’s like their second daughter, but lately, Karma feels like they might wish she _was_ their first instead. Amy’s never been a disappointment like she is. 

“Yeah, uhm, it was … interesting,” Amy offers, running a hand through her hair.

“Is that so?” Molly coos. “I hope you were sensible. Good sex is safe sex, girls. Remember that.”

“No chance of that,” Amy murmurs, looking everywhere but at her.

“Oh my God!” Karma exclaims, exasperated. “Just stop!”

“Sweetheart, don’t be so closed off! Honestly, it’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Karma glares again, and Amy doesn’t know where to look, shifting nervously next to her.

“We’re going to bed,” she snaps, grabbing Amy again and pulling her toward the stairs. “To sleep,” she adds quickly, her voice suddenly an octave higher. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Amy blushing. 

She doesn’t need her mom to break out ‘the talk’ right now. She doesn’t need her to break it out _ever_ again. Amy has no idea that dossier she made was the product of an hour and a half discussion, with diagrams and demonstrations worse than when they have to put condoms over bananas in health class. If she sees another dental dam in her life, it’ll be too soon. 

“Your emotional availability is important!” Molly reminds her, kissing her atop the head as she passes. “We’re not finished here, darling.”

“Shoot me now,” she mouths, willing her mom to move that bit faster up the stairs. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, apologetic, “she has the worst timing.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Amy shrugs. 

There’s a reason why this whole makeover was staged here. Her parents relaxed approach to rules. Karma’s never had a curfew, no subject is off limits, and she’s never been grounded. Ever. Her parents believe punishment is archaic. Amy’s life is the total opposite, and sometimes, she craves the same stability because there’s only so many times she can hear her dad say “everyone has their own moral compass,” and have it mean anything. Even if she had gotten out of the house without Bruce giving her the overbearing stepfather routine, there’s no way she’d get back in now.

“Don’t stay up too late, girls!” Molly calls sweetly. “Love you!”

Neither of them move until she’s disappeared from view and the light from Karma’s parents room that spreads out on to the landing has gone out.

“I’d rather your mom’s love of over sharing than mine giving me the third degree. She’s turning over a new leaf and wants to be more involved. I think I preferred it when she hated me.”

She nods sympathetically. “She doesn’t hate you, she just doesn’t understand you.” Amy looks at her with this warmth and for a second, she can’t breathe, and she’s wondering if this is how Amy’s felt all this time. “That’s … that’s what I’m for.”

“You are,” Amy replies, in this hushed, quiet way that sounds two steps short of ‘I love you.’

That’s the worst thing. Karma knows the second she lets herself unravel – when she reveals things she’s become so belatedly used to swallowing down and repressing – that’s it. Amy will love her until there’s no breath in her body. There’s no limit and there are no conditions. It’s the kind of love the world tells her to hold out for, and she’s never had the patience to find. Until now.

“You wanna go?” Amy asks, motioning toward the stairs. “I need to get out of this dress. It might look amazing but it’s also amazingly uncomfortable and I’ve had enough of feeling that way tonight.”

“Sure,” she shrugs, trying for casual when she feels anything but, “everything’s better in pj’s right?” 

“Always!” Amy smiles, taking her hand again. Their fingers slide and lace together with a natural ease she’s gotten too used to. It feels like her whole body is alight; inside out. It’s felt that way for a long time now whenever they touch, but it’s no less terrifying than the first time it happened when they kissed in the gym.

Even though she’s letting herself be led, obediently tacking behind Amy, avoiding the stair treads that creak, she doesn’t trust herself to be alone in her room with Amy right now. After that unsubtle sex talk, all she can think about is the fact that room has a bed in it and she and Amy will most likely be sharing it.

***

As soon as they’re through the door, the overpowering smell of incense hits her, heady and sweet, and all the candles they lit earlier on for mood just make it seem far too intimate for words. Taylor Swift and Colbie Caillat singing in the background isn’t helping either. The fact she doesn’t race across the room and turn it off is a minor miracle. She can’t even pass it off as a just a song anymore, because it’s not. It means something beyond a pretty melody and an even prettier, bittersweet lyric.

She has to distract herself. She has to try and be normal Karma. Best friend Karma. Karma who's not worrying about the meaning of songs or Shane leaving frantic messages and phone calls, praying he won’t drive over here to see she hasn’t done something stupid that she can’t undo or unsay or take back. She did that already when she tapped out that reply. She can do this, she can hold it together. It’s one night. One sleepover, they’ve done it a thousand times.

They planned this to the letter, and she’s going to stick to it. 

All that needs to happen is Amy gets into her pj’s, and they eat ice cream and talk while they work on the length of her Netflix queue before they fall asleep far too late and have to wake up far too early for school. If Amy never answers her phone, she’ll never have to talk about what Shane knows or what Cat knows or what everyone including Amy has always known.

“So,” she begins, trying to behave as a best friend should. “What happened?”

Tossing the shoes and bag to the floor, Amy launches herself at the bed with a groan and a doleful, “Everything that could’ve gone wrong, did go wrong, Karm. I’m useless without you.” 

It’s half addressed to the pillows, but it still hurts as much as if she’d said it right to her face.

“No you’re not,” she exclaims, distracting herself with finding Amy something to sleep in. It’s busywork, she knows exactly where they are. Amy has a drawer, and hanging space in her closet because she stays over so much. 

“She was cool, and smart and … _sexy_ ,” Amy begins, turning over to look at her with the biggest of puppy dog eyes. “Turns out Angela Chase is even worse at dating than Amy Raudenfeld!” she sighs, long and dramatic. “It took me twenty minutes to go inside that stupid club. I’m gonna be one of those old cat ladies!”

It’s sad, desperately sad that she thinks so little of herself, but her complete and utter awkwardness in social situations is adorable. She’s always been that way. Even when they were little, Karma did the talking for both of them and said all the things Amy – painfully shy little Amy – couldn’t. The irony of the fact she can’t find it in itself to do the talking now isn’t lost on her.

“You won’t!” she laughs, crossing the room toward her. “Shane and I won’t let that happen,” she continues dropping the clothes in Amy’s lap. Her favourite checkered sleep shorts and her doughnut shirt.

“So you’re friends now, huh?” Amy asks, scooting around to face her.

“Something like that,” she shrugs, dropping down next to her on the bed. There’s a not so quiet voice in her head chanting ‘tell her the truth.’ 

There’s barely any space between them, and that dress is sinfully short. There’s far too much skin on display. Skin she knows will be soft because of Shane and his ridiculously involved waxing routine that lead to a borderline TMI conversation yesterday about how much Amy should wax at all. She’s thankful of those candles now; they’re the perfect mask for the blush she’s wearing when Amy catches her looking. When in the world did Amy, _her_ Amy, become so devastatingly beautiful? How did she miss it happening? There hasn’t been a day when they haven’t seen each other since they met in Kindergarten. 

“God, how the _hell_ do you walk in those heels?” Amy asks, rubbing at her feet and glaring at the shoes like they’ll feel guilty and somehow answer her and apologise. 

“Practice, Raudenfeld,” she replies, calm and Yoda-like, smiling despite herself, “practice.”

“It was either break the heel or break my ankle,” Amy shrugs. “I figured you’d forgive me.”

“Only because it’s you,” Karma laughs a little, “I got them on sale anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she continues, her hand brushing Amy’s knee.

They both look down at her hand and then back at each other. She yanks it away before Amy can say anything. Every time they touch now, it feels weird - there’s this palpable energy between them that she can’t name – it takes longer and longer for her heartbeat to settle. If the guilt she’s carrying around doesn’t kill her that surely will. 

“Come on, up,” she beckons with a crooked finger, trying her best to get things back on track and distract herself with something normal. “We have to get your makeup off. Unless you want to break out in a million zits!” she teases, tapping Amy’s chin.

“See, look!” Amy protests, throwing her arms up. “Did I miss getting some huge girl guidebook or something?”

“That’s what I’m for, remember?” she singsongs, pulling Amy up before she can argue.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Amy replies, in this quiet, pure way that makes Karma’s stomach lurch.

She pretends not to hear her. She pretends that holding her hand isn’t a habit and that it’s silly to guide Amy around this house like she doesn’t know every inch and they’re only crossing the room to her dressing table where they’ve sat staring at their reflections a thousand times before. She pretends she can’t feel Amy watching her. She pretends this night and the way her heart is racing at the thought can mean nothing. She’s getting far too used to pretending. 

Being Liam Booker’s (not quite) girlfriend is really good training.

***

Her room seems smaller now she and Amy are together in it sitting on mismatched chairs, despite the fact Shane was here with them both this afternoon and it felt just fine with the three of them. She kind of wishes Shane were here now, even if he would be standing there giving her evil sidelong glances while she passed him things he needed to make Amy look like Amy again. It’s only the makeup that’s different about her now, since she’s changed out of her dress – thank God the zipper didn’t get stuck again – because the eleven minutes it took for her to get undressed were awkward and torturous enough without something like that happening. 

Most of that time was spent cycling through her texts and trying to ignore the fact any undressing was happening at all. It’s not like this is the first time this has happened. It’s not even the first time they’ve seen each other without clothes on. Even before the threesome, there were sleepovers and shared baths long before that (when they were five it was about being kind to the planet and conserving water, when they were eleven it was habit). She’s also been ignoring all communication from Shane, declining the calls and deleting the texts as fast as he can type them. His concern, and the fact he’s making complete and total sense to her is unsettling. 

_Karma, look, I handled things badly. I had no idea you actually felt that way about her. Just don’t do anything stupid, OK?_

_Even if you tell her everything, it’s not like Amy will hate you. She’ll be pissed for sure, but she’ll never hate you. She’s physically incapable of that honey. Trust me._

She tried not to stare for fear of getting caught, and she’s sure the guilt of perving on her best friend will stick around for the next fifty years, but she couldn’t _help_ it. Amy’s just _there_ and everything on the current playlist seems like it’s talking to her and it was making her beyond uncomfortable, so she couldn’t even distract herself with that while she was waiting or stop it either, because Amy would stop singing along in her sweet, slightly off-key way, and think she was weird for spoiling her fun. Amy got hot, as Zen and all his stoner college friends are so fond of reminding her. It’s taken her forever to notice, but now she can’t stop noticing. Amy caught her a few times, but didn’t say anything, or wasn’t brave enough to. Noticing that she wears her sleep shorts lower on her hips than she used to. That she has really nice lingerie. That her abs are ridiculous. 

They were too heavy-handed with all this makeup, she thinks, especially in this light, but in the club with Cat, it would’ve worked in her favour. She finds herself making a mental note to tell Shane not to go so far next time. As if there will be a next time. Amy’s probably scarred for life. 

***

Any second, she thinks Amy’s just going to flat out ask what the fuck is wrong with her like Shane did. She can be blunt sometimes, especially when she knows that people are hiding things from her. As hiding goes, this is pretty weak camouflage. Amy’s not stupid, she obviously knows _something_ , but the fact she hasn’t said anything meaningful about the evening yet is somehow worse than if she’d barged in demanding answers.

Not that she could give Amy any of those.

“I never even knew makeup remover towelettes existed,” Amy muses, holding up the pack. 

“All hail Neutrogena!” she laughs despite herself. “Amazing things happen when you leave the Pop Tarts aisle, Aims.”

“Hey!” Amy jabs at her playfully with the packet for emphasis. “I don’t hear you complaining when you actually _want_ Pop Tarts. I like choice in breakfast foods,” she protests, tossing the packet on to the dressing table.

“After all, it’s the most important meal of the day!” they say, accidentally in synch, mirroring Farrah perfectly. 

They both burst out laughing and then catch themselves, remembering where they are, what time it is and who is right next door. She wouldn’t put it past her mom to be stood on the other side of the door, eavesdropping. 

“Dork,” she mouths, shaking her head. “The quicker we finish this and talk about this disaster of a date, the quicker we can get started on that Netflix queue,” she reminds her.

“Good point,” Amy agrees, leaning forward so Karma can reach her more easily.

It’s kind of cathartic, watching all these layers of makeup dissolve as she wipes at Amy’s face with quick, practiced moves. She’s capable of doing this herself, they both know it, but she seems content to relinquish control anyway, and Karma’s glad of the focus. She snaps her fingers, motioning for Amy to take out another towelette from the pack while she turns and drops the other into the trash, covered in remnants of mascara and foundation. 

“Start from the beginning,” she prompts when she turns back to look at her. “I want to hear everything,” she continues, surprised how easy – how terrifyingly easy – it is to lie. 

She doesn’t want to know, not really, and yet, there’s this morbid curiosity that’s gnawing away at her, desperate to know every tiny detail.

“Ugh God,” Amy groans. “I wouldn’t even call it a date. It was more a prolonged exhibition of my embarrassment. I think I need to be trained how to socialise, like a dog or something.”

“Excuse me, Cesar Millan’s got nothing on Shane and me!”

She meant to say something else, something to get her started talking, but Amy looks so ridiculously adorable reading the back of a hairspray can like they’re the launch instructions for a rocket – she’s the one who strong arms her into wearing makeup and buying products, it’s not Amy’s arena at all – that everything she’s going to say flies out her head, and she almost forgets everything that’s happened tonight. 

It could be OK. If Amy can get over her like she has, surely she can get over her too. All she’ll need is time, and a lot of money or some decent dirt on Shane she can blackmail him with so he’ll never tell Amy about their conversation and pinky swear on it. To her face. With witnesses. 

Then, Amy looks at her and smiles, and she knows nothing will be OK for a long time. 

“Lucky for me I know you’re joking, else I’d be seriously offended,” Amy declares, setting the can back down. 

“Well, if you listened to Shane, your head wouldn’t fit through the door! One of us has to keep your ego in check.”

Amy makes a face, and she thinks that’s adorable too. “My deflated ego and I thank you.”

She doesn’t know when exactly, but she’s started cataloguing all these little details about her. Looks and smiles that used to be just looks and smiles but now she can’t help thinking how beautiful – how devastatingly beautiful – Amy looks when she smiles; when the sun from the window on the school bus hits her profile at a certain angle; when she’s concentrating in math, chewing on the end of her pen, frowning because she doesn’t get something old Mr Brinkman is trying to teach them. Now she’s started, she can’t seem to stop. She’s looked at Amy every day for years, but she’s never really seen her before, not like she does now.

“Funny.”

“I know.”

Ah, there she is. There’s the Amy she knows and … There’s Amy back to her usual self. Not the nervous, panicked, insecure, fresh from a dating disaster Amy who Karma wants to hug and protect from the world until she realises how amazing she actually is. 

“Anyway, Shane clearly forgot his contacts today, and so did you, so an inflated ego is unlikely.”

“Oh please you know you’re beautiful,” she replies, so distracted by her task that it takes her a very long few seconds to realise what she’s said out loud.

Amy opens her mouth to speak; Karma’s close enough to feel her breath and hear the vague starts of sounds, but then she stops herself. Immediately, everything feels different. Even the air in the room. It feels thicker and heavier than before, like she can’t quite get full breath of air into her lungs. It’s not a weird thing to say at all, she’s said it hundreds of times and Amy’s blushed just like she’s doing now but it’s not the same at all. 

Everything means something and she hates it. Suddenly she understands what Amy meant about ‘waterboarding her heart.’

“Hold still! I can’t finish this if you keep moving,” Karma covers badly, snapping at her as she reaches up, tilting Amy’s face toward her. “Close your eyes,” she instructs, more gentle, leaning closer and inspecting her progress. Time for that metallic smoky-eye makeup to come off.

“Sorry,” Amy murmurs, apologetic.

She immediately feels guilty.

Just like Karma knew she would, Amy flinches when she pulls at the false lashes with her other hand. Another unnecessary addition, but by then, Amy was already tired of them arguing, so she just let it slide. She isn’t so much dabbing at Amy’s face anymore, or even scrubbing at it with the speed she uses for herself. Instead, it’s almost like a caress – but she doesn’t want call it that – moving in soft, careful, circular strokes. She stiffens, realising that Amy must feel the difference too. 

“That feels kind of nice,” Amy comments, offhandedly.

Suddenly, her heart is in her throat, and it’s not just because of what Amy just said, it’s because she’s reached the last part of the clean up: Amy’s mouth. The lipstick is just a vague, red stain now, not the rich deep colour it was earlier on, but it matters somehow. It matters because she wants to kiss her. She wants to kiss her for real. No faking. No photo for Instagram. She just wants to kiss her, and feel the soft, familiar pressure of Amy’s lips on her own; cautious and gentle and perfect and everything Liam Booker is not. She wipes across their shape with the towelette once, twice, and it’s almost like a kiss. There’s only that thin layer of fabric separating Amy’s mouth and her fingers, but it’s barrier enough. Amy lets out a shuddering breath at the contact, and Karma instinctively moves back. It’s too much now. Maybe it’s always been too much and she just never acknowledged it before. She does that a lot.

“All done!” she declares smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She shakes it off, tossing the final towelette into the trash and turning Amy’s chair to face the mirror. “There’s my Amy,” she says softly as she takes her in again, hands resting on Amy’s shoulders.

As soon as she says it, her stomach twists in way that’s becoming familiar. Her regret is immediate.

Amy’s eyes open slowly, and she looks different. Sadder. “And, I’m back,” her mouth quirks into a barely there smile. “Oh well, it was a fun experiment. Maybe I should’ve gone on the date looking like this huh?”

For long moments, they both stare at each other, both realising at more or less the same time that Karma’s hands haven’t moved. 

This isn’t how best friends behave. This isn’t how she wanted to behave. There isn’t a scrap of makeup left on her face and _God_ if it isn’t the most beautiful face she’s ever seen. How did she not see it? How did she not know she felt like this deep down? Angela is gone and Amy is back. _Her_ Amy, beautiful and perfect and everything that’s important in her world. She wants to touch her face, just to see if the freckles line up, if her skin is as soft as she remembers it being.

“It can’t have been that bad a date if you made out with her though,” and then, for no real reason at all, “was it good? Did it feel different?”

Someone smarter would turn tail and run, but she’s not smart when it comes to Amy. She plans too far ahead and never realises what she should until it’s much too late. She lets her hands fall away, and Amy immediately moves off toward the bed, sitting on its edge.

“I did everything I was supposed to do. I let her buy me overpriced stupidly strong drinks. We tried to talk over obnoxious loud music. When that didn’t work, we danced to the obnoxious music.”

“And?” she prompts, crossing the room to join her, compelled to follow.

The pattern on her duvet repeats twice in the space left between her and Amy. It still feels too close.

She hears the muffled sound of Amy’s ringtone again, and this time, she knows it’s Shane. He set it himself. They both look down at the clutch bag but neither of them move. She doesn’t even move when her own phone lights up on the dressing table, juddering off the edge because it’s on vibrate. Just before it falls on the carpet, she sees Shane’s face beaming out at her, and then the screen goes black. She’s thankful for that low battery now.

Somewhere, a clock is ticking.


	3. 12:21 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"For once, they’re on the same page."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For story notes see [Chapter One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3239606/chapters/7057310). Thanks for the love and support on this one. It was really fun to write. Glad you guys have enjoyed it. Hope the ending lives up to your expectations!

Amy hasn’t been talking very long, but the picture she’s painting of the evening is vivid. Every word is making Karma’s stomach churn. Amy’s being kind, she’s sure, leaving things out to spare her out of politeness or out of sheer awkwardness. She can’t imagine a day when they’ll lie on this bed flipping through a magazine and Amy will comment about Scarlett Johansson like she used to about Zac Efron when they were in middle school. Some things just don’t mesh in her head, and Amy being as comfortable with her as she used to be is one of them. Whatever Amy’s words are, it doesn’t matter much, because she can imagine well enough for the both of them.

In her head, she’s still imagining what them dancing looked like. All she knows is that still looks nothing like their silly, childish dance routine to Paula Abdul, and more like the hot and heavy grinding she’s never been able to pull off. The closeness is what she finds herself focussing on. How packed the club was, where Cat’s hands might have rested; how they kissed under the hot lights; what Cat said into Amy’s ear as they moved.

“She said we should go to her place, the music was better,” Amy looks down, as if disgusted with herself. “Lame, I know, but I fell for it. The attention was nice. People … girls watching me, watching us was nice.”

Amy pauses; raking an unsteady hand through her hair, looking surprised she said what she did out loud. She moves closer to her, despite everything in her screaming not to, and it seems to make Amy relax. The fact it makes Karma even more on edge matters little.

“So, we went to her car, and I don’t know,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to steel herself, “Kissing her felt like the right thing to do.”

“But?” she asks, barely audible.

“It wasn’t right,” Amy replies simply, and they both know there are a thousand other words hidden underneath the ones she’s just said. “It got way too heavy way too fast and …” she trails off into the quietest voice Karma’s ever heard, “She’s not you.”

“Amy,” the name comes out cracked and strange, like it’s caught in her throat.

“She, she was all over me,” Amy glances at her briefly, gauging her reaction, “her hands were all over me, and for once I didn’t care. I _wanted_ it to happen. I wanted to stop being so afraid of everything and just feel something.”

That hits a little too close to home. She wishes Amy would follow that advice now, just stop being so polite and good and just do whatever she wants. Kiss her hard and fast and deep instead of the sweet, timid way they used to do. Just take control. Just _take_ her and screw the consequences. Where the _hell_ is this coming from? She doesn’t even fantasise about Liam like that. Quickies on paint streaked benches and dusty floors get old. Fast.

Maybe that’s all they really need. One real kiss. One night together to get it out of their system. The idea’s crossed her mind countless times since this dating project started.

“You don’t need to talk about this if you don’t want to,” she jumps in, wanting to shut this thing down.

They used to be able to share everything, but not now. Not when it’s awkward and weird and they’re constantly trying to redraw the new boundaries between them while refusing to acknowledge they exist at all.

She can’t hear it. She can’t let herself imagine Cat kissing her and touching her, and have Amy’s first time be some meaningless hook-up with a college girl she barely knows. Amy’s better than that. Amy deserves better than that. She can’t take the way Amy is looking at her either; with this sadness and this _anger_ that’s not sharp enough to be called anger at all.

“Every time I closed my eyes, she wasn’t there anymore. It was you. It was your hands and your mouth and your breath on my skin, and it would’ve been so easy just to let her keep going. She wanted me back, and I thought I wanted her too.”

She stays silent. Afraid of betraying herself. Everything she imagines is betrayal enough; dredged up from when she made them both that stupid dossier and videos on the internet that she watched in the dead of night, curious – insatiably curious – but terrified of being walked in on.

Amy turns to her then, looking her right in the eyes, and it hurts more than she ever thought possible.

“I just stayed in her car, looking up at the steps to her building, trying to imagine what it would be like if I slept with her, but I knew that just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let go of you.”

On the duvet, Amy’s fingertips are now perilously close to hers, and then they brush, briefly, just once, and Karma jerks her hand away. Amy looks wounded by it.

“I know I’m supposed to be over you, Karm, but I can’t. There’s not some nice switch that I can flip so I don’t love you anymore,” she pauses, correcting herself, “so I’m not _in_ love with you anymore. I wish there _were_ a switch sometimes, and I wish I didn’t love you, but I do. I think part of me always will.”

For once, they’re on the same page.

She hates herself for this. She hates the fact that she’s turned Amy’s whole world on its head. She hates even more that Amy looks in physical _pain_ the longer she goes on talking, barely able to hold it together, on the verge of tears. If only she’d been braver after Amy’s confession at the wedding. If only she’d done what her brain was screaming at her to do: close the distance between them and kiss her. Out of comfort. Out of love. Out of the desperate need to know if what was between them was all in her head. That feeling is even stronger now than it was back then.

“Amy …” she repeats, and it sounds like a different word. Foreign on her tongue, like she’s saying it for the very first time.

“You wanted to hear it,” Amy reminds her, and she just looks away, because she’s got no answer. “She could tell something was wrong, and tried to get me to talk about it. In the end, we talked about you – that was it. I lost it. I started fucking crying.”

She swallows hard, tears stinging at the back of her eyes. If she’s not careful, she’ll lose it too and say too much and do too much and every bridge they’ve built since Amy’s confession at the wedding will go up in smoke.

“I’m sorry,” she manages finally, and it sounds woefully inadequate.

Amy shakes her head sadly. “Not as sorry as me.”

There’s a look in Amy’s eyes she’s never seen before, but she already knows she never wants to see it again. She’s at a loss, completely unable to think of anything but what she told Shane, and how she wants to just grab her and scream those words out loud, just so they’re out in the world and gone from her head.

***

“Amy,” she begins, heart hammering in her chest. “I need to tell –”

Amy’s phone rings again, cutting through everything, and suddenly, inexplicably, she feels relief.

“One second,” Amy huffs out a breath. “I don’t think it’s going to stop, so I should answer it,” she continues, snatching up the clutch bag, and Karma knows it’s all over. It doesn’t really matter anymore. Her nerve, and the moment, is gone. All she can do is sit and watch, frozen to the spot, watching the back of Amy’s head, terrified of what her expression will be when she finally turns around.

“Shane, what the hell? You left seventeen messages?” Amy falters at first, thrown by his obvious urgency, but recovers quickly. She sounds like her normal self, like nothing’s happened, and Karma wonders how many phone calls she’s made to her like that, faking she’s OK when she’s anything but. “I’m fine, I’m back at Karma’s. No I didn’t get _Catfished_ you idiot!” 

She strains to hear what Shane might be saying, but she can’t. Part of her, a very big part of her wants to rush Amy, tackle her to the ground and end that call before Shane can incriminate her even further.

“What? No, there’s nothing wrong … Well it was kind of a disaster but I’ll tell you about it later … Why are you being so fucking weird? We’re just talking.”

The fact she has no idea what he’s saying makes it worse, because it leaves her to imagine his words instead.

“No! I didn’t sleep with her!” Amy exclaims, mortified. “Jesus Shane, why would you even ask that?! You’re not _that_ interested in my sex life are you?” she laughs, but it’s nervous, she’s still trying to cover her shock.

“Shane, will you just tell me? You’re not making any sense,” Amy lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just tell me … I’ll find out anyway, so just do it. Since when do you feel guilty about spreading gossip?”

There’s a long silence, and Karma can practically feel Amy’s frustration radiating off her.

“Shane, look, I love you and everything but get to the point, we’re kind of in the middle of stuff. It’s just complicated so, whatever you need to say, say it.”

“What? She said what?”

Then, Amy falls silent, her left hand falling away from where it’s been rubbing at her temple.

“I … I have to go … Call me back later.”

A few seconds after that she ends the call, and it seems to take forever for her to move.

“Whatever he said, it’s not what it sounds like, I can explain!” she blurts out immediately, jumping to her feet. The desperate edge to her voice is undeniable.

Amy turns at last; her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Cat said I wasn’t ready for all of this, and that I needed to talk to you,” she says at last. “I couldn’t quite figure out why, but now I know she was right. She told me it wasn’t her secret to tell, because,” she pauses, and Karma practically hears the penny drop when she says, “it was yours.”

They look at each other for a long time, and she’s not sure what Amy will do. She looks so confused, and hurt, and angry, and _betrayed_. Yes, that’s it, she’s betrayed her. Again.

“I … how … what did Shane say?” is all she gets out, stumbling over her words, trying and failing to put them together in the right way.

Shane matters more to her right now. She’ll probably never see Cat again, but Shane? He’ll be in her face every day until graduation.

“Enough,” Amy shrugs, still gripping her phone tightly. “But I think I always knew deep down. You’re different. We’re different now.”

All she wants to say is ‘I know,’ and ‘you’re right,’ but that’s not what she hears herself saying when she opens her mouth. “He just cornered me and I just wanted him to stop. I just wanted it all to stop Amy. I’m so sorry.”

Mostly, she just wants to close the distance that’s opened up between them, and have Amy hold her and comfort her like she always has, whether it’s because of scraped knees from falling off her bike when they were little; or when no one else could console her after her Gam-Gam died, and Amy was there for every single one of the nights she cried herself to sleep.

The wounds you can’t see take the longest to heal.

***

“Is it true?” her voice is heavy with sadness.

Regardless of what Amy knows or doesn’t, it’s all too late. Karma’s months too late for this.

She swallows hard, not sure what to confess to first, or even if she can. “Is what true?”

She can’t. She can’t tell her. The words are there, but they’re stuck in her throat, choking her instead.

Amy sighs, long and hard. “Did you talk to Cat about me?”

It’s not the question she expected.

“Not just that,” is the safest answer. Even so, she’s barely able to look Amy in the eye.

“Say it.” Amy replies, and Karma hears the same desperation in her voice too. “I need to hear you say it.”

She’s always been the brave one.

“Amy please …don’t,” she lets out a strangled sob. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I wanted to tell you,” she gulps in air, trying to steady herself. “I just needed someone to talk to. She was just there.”

Amy blurs in front of her, and she belatedly realises she’s started to cry. It feels like she’s outside of her own body, watching her entire life implode before her eyes and she’s powerless to stop it.

“I was here!” Amy exclaims, and the forcefulness of her words makes Karma jump. “I’ve _always_ been here, Karm. I’m your best friend, why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

It’s such a simple question, but it’s one that has no easy answer.

“You know why!” she chokes out, between fresh sobs.

“When did things get so bad between us that I’m not who you turn to when you need someone the most?” Amy’s voice gives out then, and she can barely speak. “When did I stop being that person?”

Karma’s only seen her like that once before.

“I was afraid …I’m still afraid. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

“Yeah, well,” Amy begins, voice laced with bitterness, “now you know how I felt, and worst thing is, Karm,” she continues in the quietest, saddest voice she’s ever heard, “I lost you anyway.”

Yes. Amy’s right, she does know how it feels. She understands that love, this beautiful, wonderful, miracle of a thing can hurt. That pain is a solid, heavy weight people carry around but can’t touch. Right now, it feels like Amy is the only one who can reach inside and take it all away.

She doesn’t speak; she can’t, because Amy’s right. About everything.

“After everything we’ve been through, you don’t trust me do you?”

The pain in Amy’s voice hurts her more than anything she’s said.

“It’s not like that, you’re twisting things!” she yells, frustrated, not caring that they’re almost screaming at each other and her parents must be able to hear.

“Untwist them,” Amy looks her right in the eyes, starting to move closer. “Stop hiding things from me. Stop holding back.”

Amy’s fighting back tears, looking like she’s seconds breaking down completely, and Karma feels like she’s seconds from throwing up. All the signs are there: her stomach is in knots, her temperature starting to soar, her breathing getting shallower, and the room is starting to spin.

“I can’t,” she cries pathetically. “You’ll hate me.”

This time, she’s got nothing to fill the silence with and they just stand, looking at each other for what feels like an eternity. And then, it happens. Karma breaks. All the confusion and the sadness that’s been building up in her for months comes out in the form of tears, ugly, loud, tears. She drops back down onto the bed, shielding her face with her hands.

“Oh Karm, I could never hate you.”

She hears the soft thud of Amy’s phone hitting the carpet, and then she’s rushing across the room. Carefully, slowly, Amy pulls Karma’s hands away from her face, and there she is, kneeling right in front of her, face etched with concern.

“I can’t even be angry at you,” she assures quietly, taking both of Karma’s hands in her own. “I want to be. I really do, but I can’t,” and then, after what seems like a long time, “God Karma, why now?”

There are a million things running around her head, and she has no idea where to start, none of it makes sense. None of it will make Amy realise that she never set out to hurt her. This wasn’t about trust or lack of it, but love, and feeling too much of it.

“I ruined you ... I ruined us … I ruined everything.”

The enormity of what she’s done hits her all at once. And there it is. The truth.

“No you didn’t,” Amy replies, with a gentleness she never anticipated.

“I thought Liam would fix everything, but he hasn’t. He’s just made everything worse. I wanted to be happy with him, so badly, but I’m not. I could be with you, I know that now.”

“Karm,” Amy gets up, reluctantly letting go of Karma’s hands to sit next to her on the bed.

This time, there’s no space between them at all. She keeps looking down at her lap, knowing that if she looks at Amy, she’ll never get through this, and she has barely enough courage to say it once.

***

“I made a mistake,” she starts, knowing she owes Amy the truth. “When I said I didn’t love you like you wanted me to, I was lying,” she swallows hard, hearing Amy make some sort of noise in response, but she’s too afraid to look at her. “To myself … to you …” and then, because she has no reason not to, “I love you …”

“It’s OK,” Amy says, quietly. So quietly Karma’s not even sure she said it out loud. “It’s OK,” she repeats, reaching to brush away Karma’s tears as they fall. She stays close, cradling her face, as if she’s afraid Karma will run away before she gets to say, “I love you too … so much.”

She couldn’t leave this room even if she wanted to. All she ever wanted was someone to love her, someone good and kind, like in the fairytales she loved to read as a little girl. That person has been there, all along, and she was blind to it, so incredibly blind.

“I’m so stupid Amy,” she swallows hard, struggling to keep talking, but knowing that she has to, “Why couldn’t I see it before?”

“You’re not stupid,” Amy shakes her head, smiling through her own tears. “I know you’re scared; I am too,” she pauses, reaching to brush back the hair that’s fallen into Karma’s eyes, “there’s something there, Karm, I felt it right from the moment we first kissed in the gym.”

All she can do is nod. “I know.”

“We’ll work this out, OK?” Amy smiles at her softly, looking at her in a way that Liam never has, but something about it seems so familiar, and _right_ , “Together, like always.”

Then, she leans over, pressing a barely there kiss to Karma’s forehead. Before she can really think, she’s pulling Amy into her arms, squeezing tightly. She closes her eyes, resting her head on Amy’s shoulder, just letting herself breathe as she feels Amy gently stroking her hair. 

It’s a long time before either of them moves.

“OK?” Amy asks gently when they finally part.

“I will be,” she smiles despite everything, tears drying now, “with you.”

Now it’s Amy’s turn to smile, shyly, dropping her head and blushing deeply as she does.

“Kiss me,” she hears herself say, when Amy’s head lifts, and it’s the first time she’s just said something she’s wanted to without thinking in a long time.

“Do you mean it?” Amy asks, like she didn’t mean to say it out loud, and that hurts in its own particular way.

“Yes,” she breathes, moving closer to her. “Yes,” she repeats louder, fighting the urge to just tilt Amy’s head down and initiate it herself. “I mean it.”

“If I kiss you now,” Amy warns her, edging closer too, “we can never go back to what we were before.”

Amy’s so close, in fact, she can feel her breathing.

“If you don’t, we can’t go forward either.”

There’s no point lying to her now. There never really has been. She expects Amy to make some joke, just to diffuse the tension in that cute, self-deprecating way she has, but there’s nothing like that. There’s just Amy, looking at her, sweet and earnest.

Outside, the breeze picks up, making the candles flicker and the wind chimes hanging in her window sing out, and it makes everything feel kind of magical and unreal. She’s trying to store it all away, because whatever happens, they’ll never get this moment back. Amy seems to know it too, purposefully holding back, her hands framing Karma’s face, waiting. She’s nervous now, suddenly, stupidly, shaking for no real reason. It’s just a kiss. But then, it was never _just_ a kiss, even when they were faking. She knows that now. Maybe they were never really faking at all.

They both move at the same time, so they bump noses, and it makes them both laugh.

“Shall we try that again?” Amy suggests, in this warm, awed voice that she’s never heard before.

She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. Amy closes the gap between them again, still cradling Karma’s face in her hands. When their lips touch, it’s nervous and brief, more on the corner of her mouth than her lips, but it doesn’t really matter. There’s something so delicate about it that makes Karma’s chest hurt. They keep trading soft little pecks, and it hurts her neck to kiss at this angle, but that doesn’t matter either, not when she leans up, and kisses Amy that bit harder, growing in confidence. This isn’t like their other kisses; there’s no audience to cheer, no ticker tape to fall, and it’s perfect, just perfect. Amy matches her, deepening the kiss, and it’s almost too much. Amy’s tongue is in her mouth. It’s delicious and strange, because they’ve never done _that_ before, and this _noise_ comes from her throat that’s completely foreign, and it makes Amy surge forward.

They fall backward onto the bed at an odd angle kissing in this soft, slow way that she can’t get enough of, and she pulls Amy down on top of her, desperate for more. It’s nothing like she dreamed, but somehow everything. A world away from like the novels she’s read or the movies she’s seen that told her about love and being loved, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that they’re in mismatched pyjamas and there’s Taylor Swift playing in the background instead of Etta James, because for once in her life, it’s real. She always thought that if Amy found out the truth, it would be the end of everything, but now she realises it’s not just an ending, it’s the beginning of something else.

The next time Amy’s phone rings, it goes unanswered.


End file.
